


Adult content

by Totally_Legit



Category: GOT7
Genre: 2Jae, Actual Pornography, Everything else is shameless and weird, Foot Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Mild come eating, Mild feet, OS, PWP, Porn, Smut, mild kink shaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:13:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24790657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Totally_Legit/pseuds/Totally_Legit
Summary: Youngjae comes for a visit and discovers things he shouldn't have.
Relationships: Choi Youngjae/Im Jaebum | JB
Comments: 12
Kudos: 47





	Adult content

**Author's Note:**

> It was one thing in the beginning and then it became a bit of everything.  
> I'm off to take a shower, okay, bye.

„What is that?“ he hears Youngjae ask. “What?” He gives back, eyes trained on the computer screen and unable to see what Youngjae might be pointing at. “That!” Youngjae says again with more pressure. “Huh…?” Jaebum is too distracted by his computer to think about what Youngjae is talking about.

“Hyung!” He hears his voice call sharply. “What do you need a whole toilet paper roll in your studio for?!” Jaebum snaps out of his focus and feels his cheeks flush in a sudden burst of embarrassment, hoping that it won’t be visible in the dim blue light of the screen. He keeps his eyes fixed, but now he doesn’t see the content of his software anymore, just pretends to stay focused on his song instead of Youngjae’s words. But they’re ringing in his ears.

“Uh… tissues.” He mumbles hastily. “What?” Youngjae wants to know, voice still as clear and sharp. “Tissues.” Jaebum repeats. “I had none.” Youngjae won’t let it go. “What do you need so many tissues for?” He wants to know, tone gradually getting lighter knowing full well that he’s got Jaebum pinned down. He knows him too well. “Sniffles.” Jaebum’s hand cramps around the mouse. He blinks consciously because he thinks his subconsciousness forgot it and his eyes burn.

“You don’t sound sick.” Youngjae notes. “You’re not sick, are you Hyung?” Jaebum shakes his head. He knows Youngjae is observing him closely. “Allergy.” He gasps out in a hurry. “Allergies?” Youngjae asks. “You don’t have any.” There is some rustling. “Except dogs. Did someone visit you with a dog?” Jaebum takes a deep, heavy breath. “You know.” he says, looking down at his keyboard. “I could have a completely innocent reason to have tissues in my room.” He sighs in resignation. He hears Youngjae’s lighthearted giggle.

A hand comes to lie on his shoulder from behind and his back tenses upon the contact. “And. For the lotion, too?” Youngjae’s voice is a soft murmur, not the mocking tone from behind but hushed, secretive. Jaebum’s eyes don’t need to flicker over there to know he forgot to pack it away. He swallows. “Dry… skin?” He attempts. He feels every bit of Youngjae’s proximity, even the lightest brush against his back and hair when he leans down to his ear. His shudders when the hot breath ghosts along his neck and the shell of his ear.

“Why don’t you tell me the truth?” He whispers softly, goosebumps of hell racing down the back of his neck and his spine. His skin tingles and he almost wants to draw out of reach, because it’s so intense. He feels himself stir in his pants. “Jaebummie.” Youngjae pushes, his fingertips digging into the bones on his shoulder. He cracks.

“I jerked off.” The words tumble out of Jaebum’s mouth involuntarily and he regrets them instantly. He bites down on his tongue, but it’s too late. Youngjae scoffs. “Nasty.” he comments, but he doesn’t move away in any display of disgust. “Who had you so turned on you had to jack it in your studio, hm?” He inquires, instantly back to the dangerously sharp undertone that gives him the chills. “Obviously it wasn’t me.” He keeps talking, moving away just barely, just enough so the caress of his breath feels less intimate and it has Jaebum scream internally. He tries hard not to show any reaction, but Youngjae… Youngjae just knows how to push his buttons.

He tongue is tied and the silence in the room is heavy, the soundproofed doors not letting a single sound inside. Or out.

“Is that it?” Youngjae asks snarky. “I don’t satisfy you enough? I don’t turn you on?” “No!” Jaebum yelps. “Yes!” Blood is thrumming in his ears. “You!” He adds, unable to string even just two words together. “I don’t believe you.” Youngjae leans over him, his weight pushing heavily against Jaebum’s back as he forces his face into his field of vision. He wears no make-up, his wavy hair is a little tousled as if he wore a hat and his lips are chapped. He’s gorgeous.

“Who is it? Who makes you give in to the filthy act of self-pleasure, Hyung?” Jaebum’s eyes screw shut as he shakes his head again rapidly. Youngjae’s arms encase him when he reaches all the way around his back to come to lie on his right hand. “Or is it not who?” He turns his head to face the screen, his whole body wrapped around him warm, too warm. “But what?” He moves Jaebum’s hand. The one still tense around his mouse. Youngjae presses his index finger. The open page of his incognito browser maximizes on the display.

The quiet lasts for what feels like an eternity. Youngjae’s form doesn’t move. Only the barely noticeable rise and fall of his chest against Jaebum’s back. His skin is burning, tickling painfully wherever it is connected to Youngjae’s body. Jaebum doesn’t need to look to know that he’s straining against the front of his sweatpants. They’re so loose that they can’t contain what’s sitting underneath, sensitive from use and yet rock hard.

“Porn.” Youngjae’s voice is not a scold. Not angry. Not disgusted. Not surprised. Just. Just disappointed. His index finger is pressed down again. Loud, obnoxious, animalistic grunts sound from the speakers instantly. Jaebum’s body shakes in a burst of shame and disgust. “This is what you do to me? Substitute me for that?” Youngjae asks and his warm palm slips away from the back of his hand. “This?” He nudges. Jaebum’s muscles are taught but useless. He can’t move.

“This is what you do behind my back, Hyung?” Youngjae’s hand, the one that previously hit the play button on the video is suddenly against his chest. It slips down his stomach, makes him release a terrified noise between parted lips. Firm fingers stop at the waistband of his pants as Youngjae utters one significant word. “Look.”

Jaebum’s eyes snap up upon the command, despite his whole being resisting to do it. He takes in the scene that unfolds on his screen. He’s shivering, he wants to look away, but just then Youngjae’s prodding hand slips into the front of his sweats and grabs him firmly. He whimpers from the touch, rough and warm and Youngjae repeats himself. “Look.” His fingers close tightly around his shaft while Jaebum stares wide eyed at the video. It’s halfway through. Two large, bulky men are fucking furiously in it. All tan, oiled up skin, big muscles and deep grunts. No subtlety, no finesse, no milky thighs or elegant fingers or pouty chapped lips. Just raw, filthy, pretense. It’s disgusting. His eyes are glued to the screen, his lips part in breathy inhales. His cock, sore and sensitive from before is twitching excitedly in Youngjae’s hold. It hurts, but it’s pleasurable the way Youngjae slowly strokes him up and down. The slide is too dry, the warm palm feeling rough against his delicate skin. The lotion is just a reach away, Youngjae could get it easily if he wanted, but he won’t. Jaebum just knows he won’t.

Arousal builds up slowly under his skin, crawling right beneath like an army of ants, scary and uncomfortable. “Is that what you like, Hyung?” Youngjae’s melodic voice sounds in his ear and Jaebum had almost forgotten, almost retreated so deep inside his clouded mind that he didn’t see it anymore, but now as he snaps awake via Youngjae’s prodding question they pictures and noises fill his senses again. He wants to shake his head. He wants to scream and vomit, but all that makes it up his throat and past his lips is a pitiful whimper of despair. The film is gross, he hates it with every fiber of his being, but Youngjae’s touch is so good, so sweet and violent, he can’t. He can’t.

His eyes flutter close, he wants to shut it all out and fall in Youngjae’s embrace and drown in his scent and his warm skin and his gentle touch. His fist squeezes around him making him gasp. “Look.” Youngjae insists and Jaebum’s eyes snap back open, filling his vision with the sick images still running across his screen. He’s shuddering, distinctly aware of how sweat pool on his forehead, making his clothes stick. Youngjae releases him, causing him to whine quietly, but he just pulls down the front of his sweats, tugging the waistband underneath his balls, exposing him, making everything for lewd. Then his sweet fingers curl back around his length, stroking down all the way to the base and back up, dragging his thumb over his tip. He shudders violently in over-sensitivity, so sore from when he was touching himself earlier. He would never say it out loud, but Youngjae probably knows it anyways.

“Isn’t that what you want, Hyung?” Youngjae whispers and his voice is dark and rough. “Isn’t that what gets you going?” He whimpers, Youngjae’s whole palm cupping his head. “Show me, Hyung. Do it now. If you can do it alone, do it now. When I’m here.” The space is too tight, caged between Youngjae’s arms and his weight so heavy on his shoulders where he leans unapologetically. He’s too warm and too hard, arousal burning like fire, burning like Youngjae’s rough touch, unrelenting and steady. The inhuman grunting and growling from the speakers becomes unbearably loud and he still can’t look away from the pictures. Close-ups of sweaty men’s genitals, indecent and wrong and nothing like his own, or Youngjae’s. He hates it.

“Show me what gets you off.” Youngjae orders him. “When it’s not me.” His grips becomes stronger, too tight and too rough, it hurts and Jaebums gasps for air desperately. Blood is thrumming in his ears, he’s boiling alive under the surface, feels like his skin is peeling off, revealing bare bones. He knows the climax is close. Not his own, but he can hear it in the groans, see it in the motions, wild and erratic and Youngjae mirrors them. His fist jerks in a fact pace, rubbing him raw down to his barest, deep and raw like noone and nothing has ever done to him before. He wants it so bad.

“Watch.” Youngjae’s motions stop mid track and Jaebum croaks out a pitiful cry over the sudden lack of stimulation. He was almost there. So close… No movement staggers on screen as he watches in a daze. Unsatisfied and hurting and shaking in exhaustion. It’s nauseous. One of the monstrosities on display strokes himself to completion and as much as Jaebum envies him, as much he wants to look away, look to the side, finally look at Youngjae fully ever since he walked into the studio behind him. He whines in frustration, but Youngjae doesn’t budge, keeps his cock tightly circled with his fingers and then his other hand wanders away from his shoulder and strokes up his throat, grabbing him firmly by the chin keeping his face straight. His voice is a soundless breath. “Watch.”

Jaebum can’t take it. His hand, still frozen around the mouse, covered in cold sweat finally moves, finds the red X and his index finger presses down, clicks. The disgusting noises mute immediately. The picture vanishes, leaves behind a bright screen of his music software. He hiccups when he inhales, Youngjae’s strong fingers dig into the bones of his jaw. “Is it not what you wanted?” He asks quietly. The pressure against his chin eases, but even then Jaebum can’t make a sound that’s any more than a raspy whine. Youngjae reaches forward, stretches his arm and a cold shudder runs down Jaebum’s back when he reaches for the laptop, but he just pushes it back, up the table, shoves it out of the way dismissively. Then his warmth is gone.

Jaebum has the unbearable urge to touch himself when Youngjae’s hand releases his tortured dick, but he doesn’t dare, still clutching the mouse as if his life depended on it. Youngjae walks around him, facing him, his back towards the table, blocking the computer from his view. He swings himself up, comes to sit on the tabletop, settling his butt where Jaebum works as if he owns the place as much as he owns Jaebum’s cock.

He looks down at him while he pulls his belt free, pops open the button on his jeans. He props his foot up against Jaebum’s chair, right by his thigh. When he tugs his length out of his visible panties, he’s rock hard and Jaebum’s mouth waters. He strokes up his length with a blissful expression on his pretty face. He’s leaking, a wet spot shimmering at the tip and even though he blocks most of the light, Jaebum can make out how the skin is angry red. His own abused, neglected erection is throbbing in frustration and he feels his eyes water along with it.

But Jaebum Jaebum reaches out, against all better knowledge, just out of instinct, Youngjae knocks his arm away with his shin. “My turn now.” He hisses, but it’s not nearly as threatening as he meant it to be. Jaebum’s muscles freeze, tense tight in position and he looks, now he looks without being told, motionless and hypnotized he watches how Youngjae strokes himself intentionally. He doesn’t play, doesn’t grab himself as hard as he grabbed Jaebum, no ulterior motive, no other goal than orgasm and he moans softly as he does.

It takes a bit until Jaebum notices the wetness on his cheeks and while he’s not completely certain is he’s crying or just sweating, he wouldn’t be surprised if he shed a tear or two. Youngjae doesn’t close his eyes, he keeps looking at him, not a challenge, just attention. Focus. He looks at him and Jaebum looks back, not because he can’t look away but because he wants to. Despite the pain, despite the way the glorious imagery has him ache all over, has his cock twitch and scream in pain and need.

Youngjae soft moans become louder, a melody like no other and he listens intently because he wants to hear it, because of how beautiful the noises are and if he’s spilling desperate noises from his own throat, they don’t reach his ears, not over Youngjae’s song. He’s leaning back on the table, his left hand propped behind him while he’s jerking himself off. Just like Jaebum did earlier, when Youngjae was at work and Jaebum was alone and horny he jerked off and now it’s Youngjae’s turn.

His mind is spinning, he feels so dizzy that it would worry him if he wasn’t this insanely turned on and needy. His eyes find Youngjae’s for a moment, just a second before they’re back down, glued to the motions of Youngjae’s skilled hand, but somehow it’s enough. Whatever it said, it’s enough.

Youngjae takes his foot off the side of his chair and without a single stagger in what he’s doing to himself, he pushes the sole between Jaebum’s legs. He cries out in shock and pleasure, the rough skin of Youngjae’s bare foot pressing against his neglected cock. The feeling travels through his whole body, covering his skin and his senses. Youngjae’s foot pushes him up, against his own stomach, the sole of his foot just as rough as the fabric of his shirt as it drags up his length. For the first time since Youngjae entered, Jaebum’s hand detaches from his mouse, leaves it covered in a wet layer and his fingers claw into the edge of the table, keeping himself from being pushed away. Keeping his chair still against the raw pressure of Youngjae’s leg. Jaebum’s muscles flex and tense and his mind goes blank.

He can’t hear himself, but he must sound pathetic, his throat feels stuffed and he’s fighting for breath. His vision blurs, Youngjae’s rapid motions an incomprehensible veil before his eyes. The drag of his sole so intense and harsh, his heel digging into the base of his cock uncompromising. It’s much less an explosion and so much more a slow burn that finally consumes the last of his thread-thin being, swallowing whatever is left of him. He knows he’s coming, weak and intense at the same time, but it passes in a misty cloud of eternal euphoria. His fingers slip, his mouth falls open, then tenses shut, teeth grating and his lungs squeeze every last bit of air out of him. Little, sparkling stars dance before his blind eyes and he only knows that it’s over when they fade, when his eyes regain their focus. He’s shivering, his chest heaving rapidly in an attempt to restock all the breaths he skipped in his daze.

His vision clears slowly and he finds Youngjae’s hand on height with his face, still loosely curled around his soft cock, speckled with glistening drops of fluid. He’s awfully aware of the sole of his foot still placed firmly, but without the former pressure against his own, soft and spent and wet.

It takes some more time for Jaebum to come to really, but Youngjae sits and waits patiently. His arm feels like jelly when he lifts it, places his palm beneath Youngjae’s bent knee and strokes down his jeans-clad shin all the way to his naked foot where he rests it calmly. Then their eyes find one another. Jaebum’s heart skips a beat. Still after all these years his heart tumbles when he looks into Youngjae’s face and finds him smiling like that. Soft, and comforting and gentle and all things Youngjae.

His troubled brain comes to a screeching halt and jumps with no safety net, indulges in it with every fiber. “I love you.” He says, but no sound comes from his tired throat. His lips move and Youngjae understands anyways. “Love you too.” He sasses back, but his voice, too, is raspy. “That toilet paper roll.” Jaebum says weakly, in a poor attempt to regain some of his personality. “Would come in handy now, wouldn’t it.” Youngjae’s nose scrunches. “No shortcuts.” He gives back.

Jaebum looks down. His own, weak bit of cum has already stained the base of his shirt. He hisses when he finally lifts up Youngjae’s foot off his abused cock and unceremoniously wipes it with the hem of his shirt as well before dropping it to the floor by his side. “Cheater.” Youngjae pouts, but Jaebum carefully tugs himself back into his sweats before lifting his arms and reaching out for his warm body. “C’mere.” He mumbles and Youngjae slides off the table and straight into his lap, an impact that makes him huff, straddling his thighs with enough appropriate distance.

He leans forward for a kiss, but Youngjae is faster, snaps his hand up between their faces so that Jaebum’s lips collide with his knuckles. He huffs through his nose but kisses them anyways. His eyes cross in his attempt to keep them focused when Youngjae’s lips press against the other side and then he slithers out his tongue. It presses against his palm and as he slowly pulls his hand away slides down his fingers. Jaebum’s lips follow, find the second knuckle, then the fingernail and finally, Youngjae’s tongue. He pushes it straight past his lips and teeth and Jaebum welcomes it, along with the salty taste, sucking it into his mouth and licking alone the surface until Youngjae’s lips meet his own.

While they kiss, deeply, intimately, Youngjae’s hand nudges between them, pushing aggressively until his fingers come between them again, slipping into Jaebum’s mouth instead and he licks them and sucks as if they were an extension of his tongue that pushes in with his index. Youngjae calls it cleaning up, but it makes a bigger mess, saliva smearing all of their faces between the mess of lips and teeth and tongues and fingers. Jaebum’s eyes flutter shut somewhere in the middle and he loses himself in their kiss, barely notices how Youngjae takes his hand down and tucks himself back into his sexy jeans blindly, the clanking of his belt buckle the only other noise beside the slurping and smacking of their mouths.

When Youngjae detaches after an eternity, Jaebum is both, content and dead tired.

“What did we learn today?” he hears him ask, but his eyes won’t open and he lets his head fall forward into the crook of his neck, feeling wet fingers tickle the back of his neck and card into his hair. He grumbles, but Youngjae scratches his scalp in retaliation.

“No jacking it in the studio?” He mumbles. Youngjae’s caressing fingers makes the world fade away. “And?” He asks. “Need no tissues when boyfriend is there.” He manages to grunt, inhaling Youngjae’s slightly sweaty scent deeply, drowsiness hard to fight.

“And?”

“When Coco isn’t tagging along, Youngjae is here to fuck.” His ear gets pinched, not enough to make him jump, but enough to push back the sleep for another moment.

“And?”

“No porn on the studio laptop.”

Youngjae scowls. “I’ll let that pass for today.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is by the way not some unsubtle message or anything. Nobody here condemns pornography or bulky tanned men, okay? They're just playing.


End file.
